


Empty Files

by childofthenight2035



Series: tumblr reboots [3]
Category: GOT7, JJ Project
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst and Tragedy, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Missing Persons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:21:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26393302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/childofthenight2035/pseuds/childofthenight2035
Summary: All Jinyoung had intended to do when he returned to Seoul was to fall into his boyfriend's arms.He didn't expect things to end up like this.
Relationships: Im Jaebum | JB/Park Jinyoung, Park Jinyoung/Jackson Wang
Series: tumblr reboots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1964758
Comments: 15
Kudos: 31





	Empty Files

**Author's Note:**

> so i hope yall have never seen my tumblr because this was originally a stray kids fic, but after this scumbag got exposed, i feel like throwing up keeping this there, but it's a good fic if i do say so myself, so what better way to keep it alive than to rewrite it for got7? yall dont have to read this, im posting so it's on some site at least, and there's another fic i need to revise as well

_I don’t understand. You’re asking me to be rational, but how can I? You’re asking me to be logical, but how can I? You’re asking me to be strong, but how can I?  
How can I, when it comes to him?_

-

March could most definitely take it easier on the weather.

Jinyoung drew his jacket closer to his body as another gust of wind ripped through the air. His hair was whipped mercilessly in all directions, the jacket’s hood doing absolutely nothing to help. Irritated at both the cold and the hair falling into his eyes, Jinyoung bowed his head and pressed forward down the street to the hotel he was staying at for the week. White patches lined the sidewalk, clumps of snow that hadn’t melted yet. For the heritage site of the country, Boston could sure use centralized heating.

He wished he could go home.

His eyes nearly glazed over just thinking about it.

Jinyoung wasn’t a huge fan of cities, but Seoul had become more than just that over the years. He missed the lights, the noise, the smell of familiarity. Boston was a great place, sure, but it felt empty. He missed everyone.

The wind howled in his ears, drowning out his own thoughts.

The art exhibition in Boston had received moderate reviews. It hadn’t been as popular as the one his team hosted in Orlando. Jinyoung couldn’t blame them. Leaving the house to see paintings and sculptures in this type of weather? He’d probably stay inside, too. In two days he would leave for San Francisco, for another exhibition there. And then, hopefully, back home to Seoul. After months of painstaking work. The Europe tour had both literally and figuratively broken his back, and the America tour right after it? At least Europe had good chocolate.

Jinyoung pressed his palms to his cheeks, hoping to take away some of the cold that had begun to bite at his face. He let out an exhale into his hands, but the warmth of his breath only served to mist up his glasses for a moment. Shouldn’t spring be here already?

Seeing the wide welcoming doors of the hotel, he gathered up the rest of his energy to dart up the steps inside.

The warmth hit him hard, relief coursing through his bones. He pulled off his fogged glasses, squinting around the lobby while he rubbed at the lenses with the hem of his shirt. The contrast between the temperatures was so intense that one polishing wasn’t enough.

“Jinyoung!”

The shout of his name had come from the sofas in the lobby. Jinyoung recognized the voice as Sam’s. He could see blurry movement and he waved at them, putting his glasses back on. The world came back into focus. Sam gestured for him to come over. It seemed urgent.

Jinyoung joined his team. Sam looked upset. Very much so. He exchanged glances with the others, asking them silently what had happened that made Sam so sad. They shrugged.

No one was talking, so he gave it a shot. “Sam, what’s going on? Is everything okay?”

Sam sighed, and he could almost hear the disappointment in it. _Oh,_ he thought, _this is about the exhibition. It didn’t get the rating she hoped to get._ And he just asked her if everything was okay. Probably not the best question to ask his boss after screwing up an exhibition.

“Our exhibition in San Francisco is cancelled.”

Gasps and confused noises broke out among the crew. Sam waited patiently for the talk to die down.

“Joshua and I will be going there to pick up some of the pieces,” she informed them. “The rest of you may go back home. I can make the arrangements if you wish.”

“But what happened, Sam?” One person asked.

Jinyoung tuned out Sam’s explanation, conflicted. On one hand, he was incredibly dismayed that the exhibition was cancelled. He had hoped for a better response from the people of San Francisco. He had also hoped for better weather. Most of all, he just wanted to see the Golden Gate bridge.

But on the other hand, he was thrilled. Jinyoung was going back home for the first time in months, much sooner than he could have ever hoped. His heart already ached at the thought. He desperately wanted to see his family and friends again. He missed his parents, home in Daegu. He missed Hyunjin and Yeji, the twin troubles that lived in the apartment above his in Seoul. He missed Felix and Jisung, the two hyper babies he had all but adopted when he temporarily taught art at the high school.

And Jaebeom. Especially Jaebeom.

The corners of his mouth turned up at the thought of his boyfriend.

There was that suffocation again. Jinyoung missed him so much. He missed everything, from his long hair to his crooked smile, from his little giggles when he was embarrassed to the silly things he said to cheer him up when he was sad. He missed his hugs. He missed holding his hand. He missed how his voice would go all soft when he sang to him. His kisses. Running his hands through his waves. Teasing Jaebeom about the picture of him that he kept in his wallet, as if Jinyoung didn’t do the same thing. He even missed getting up in the middle of the night when he stayed over at his place, to force him off of his computer and haul his overworking ass to bed.

He absentmindedly twisted the steel ring on his finger, unable to help the giddy smile that spread across his lips. He was going home.

_He was going home._

-

The upbeat rhythm of his ringtone filled the hotel room. Jinyoung picked his head up off the pillow, disoriented. He had apparently fallen asleep reading the plane tickets that Sam had gotten for him. An angel, that woman. She had somehow managed to adjust his flights so that he could be leaving the next morning. She had sent the tickets to his email and he got them printed from the reception. Despite his slight guilt about not accompanying her to help collect the artwork from San Francisco, Jinyoung was much too hyped about flying out of the bitter cold to give it too much thought. He hastily put the tickets in his backpack and grabbed his phone.

He had set one of Jaebeom’s more recent Instagram posts as his caller photo. He smiled at the picture before swiping at the answer button. “Hey, Beom.”

“Hi, baby.” He could hear the exhaustion in Jaebeom’s voice, but he was relieved to hear him nonetheless.

“You sound tired, Beom,” he remarked, brow creasing. “Are you not sleeping?” Jinyoung glanced at his watch. Nearly ten. The sky outside had been growing darker since five. He calculated the time in Seoul. _Plus thirteen. It’s almost eleven a.m. on Saturday._

“Not as much as I’d like to.”

He tsked. “Beom, you know you should sleep.”

“I know, baby, it’s just…” he trailed off, groaning in frustration. “Work.” He didn’t need to elaborate. It was understood. He felt the same thing. At least Jinyoung enjoyed what he did. Jaebeom was stuck in an office cubicle, managing credit that he didn’t get in return. He hated his job but it was his best shot at making some money. _One day_ , he always said, _one day I’ll make enough money to make music. I’ll make enough money to give you a real ring_. No matter how many times Jinyoung told him he didn’t need a ring to keep his love, Jaebeom insisted. _If I’m going to marry you, I’m going to do it right. Even if it destroys me._

“It’ll be okay.” He sympathized. “Everything’s going to be alright.”

“I miss you,” he murmured. Jinyoung heard the clinking sounds of metal and glass. He was probably in the kitchen. He let out a ragged sigh. “God, I miss you so much.”

Jinyoung wanted to cry, hearing Jaebeom’s spirit crumbling without him there. It almost made him break his resolve to surprise him by showing up at his apartment by Sunday, he hoped. He bit his lip to keep his change of plans to himself. “I’m right here, baby.”

“That’s not enough.” There was a heavy silence. “I wish you were here. I want to hold you so bad.”

Jinyoung did, too. He wanted to hug him and never let go. “I’ll come back, Jaebeom. Hang in there for me. You know I want to see you more than anything.” He thought he heard a sniffle, but maybe his ears was playing tricks on him. Any more discussion on this and he really would cry. Time to move on to a lighter topic. “So, what’s new over there?”

Jaebeom hummed, gathering his thoughts. When he spoke, his voice was quite steady, whether he had been crying or not. “Um. Nothing much happened, I suppose. Felix had his dance performance thing yesterday.”

“Oh, really? How did it go? Did you see it?”

“I wish I could’ve.” He let out a laugh. “You think I could get a day off to see a high school kid’s dance routine? If he was my son, maybe, but otherwise?”

“Well, he’s as good as,” Jinyoung defended, pushing his glasses up. Felix stuck to Jaebeom like glue since the day they met, for some reason yet to be known. Jaebeom was a big reason Felix got through his Korean term papers. Him, and Felix’s tutor, Minho.

“It went well, anyway, from what I could tell.” Jinyoung could imagine only too well Felix bouncing around in excitement. “You should call him and ask.”

“Ugh.” He groaned, resting his chin on his palm. “I don’t have the energy to call him at this hour. Maybe tomorrow.”

He heard Jaebeom chuckling on the other end. “You’re right. Go to sleep, then, baby. You’re tired. I’ll text you later.”

“Mm.” His eyes were already drooping shut again. The phone beeped, signalling that the call had ended. He barely remembered to pull off his glasses and set them aside before the room heating worked its magic and he totally blacked out.

-

_Seoul._

_Home._

Jinyoung was never so impatient on a flight. He was never so happy to see the lights of the runway, to feel the lurching jolt of the plane as it landed, to exit the polished airport into the evening air of Seoul. A chill settled over the place, causing him to shiver. Or was it just excitement?

The sun was just barely setting over the horizon, thin rays of sunlight streaking across the darkening sky. He breathed the cold air in deeply, feeling it rejuvenate him. A smile flitted across his lips. He could scarcely believe it.

_He was home._

A taxi dropped him off at his apartment, and he could hardly stand still long enough for the man to take out his luggage from the trunk for him. Jinyoung was almost shaking with excitement. He vowed not to go journeying again too soon.

The thump of his suitcase up the stairs. The jingling noise of the keychains attached to the zippers of his backpack. The grating of his key inserted in the lock. The creaking of the door.

He was home.

_At last._

Letting out a whoop of joy and relief, Jinyoung plunked his suitcase and his backpack by the door and flung himself onto his uncomfortable, spaghetti stained sofa that felt more like home than anywhere else. He would take this lumpy sofa over a pristine hotel room any day.

He kicked off his shoes, wanting more than anything to drift off to sleep right there, but he knew he shouldn’t. He came back without telling anyone just to go around surprising people. And the first on his list were the two troublemakers upstairs.

-

Jinyoung knocked on their door, waiting patiently for someone to answer.

It was Sunday night, and two second-year college students would most definitely be awake, trying to finish assignments that they chose to postpone until the last minute. He would get an answer soon enough.

He heard the sound of something heavy falling onto the floor, and a loud shout of ‘you answer it, loser!’ that had him chuckling to himself. More thumping sounds, the click of a lock opening, and he came face to face with the elder of the two.

Hyunjin’s face went slack in astonishment. Jinyoung pressed his lips together, trying not to laugh at his obvious surprise. He stood there stunned with no change of expression, like a deer caught in headlights, long enough for his sister to come out to investigate. His smile had faded in that time.

Yeji poked her head out into the living room to catch a glimpse of what was going on at the front door. She saw him, and her reaction was almost the exact same as her brother’s. But she was quicker to compose herself.

“Jinyoung oppa!” she exclaimed, throwing herself between him and Hyunjin, an arm sneaking behind her body to pinch her twin. Hyunjin yelped, jumping back and disappearing into the apartment. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in America!”

“I just got back,” Jinyoung answered, slightly disappointed at the less than warm welcome. Yeji must have noticed that he seemed down, because she waved her hand in a gesture of ‘don’t-mind-him’.

“He’s just shocked,” she reassured, finally inviting him inside. She snatched some papers off the dining table and shoved it into a waiting Hyunjin’s chest. He ran off with them to his bedroom. _College students_ , he thought. _Assignments always at the last minute._ Jinyoung couldn’t help but feel puzzled at their behaviour. Save for the first time he saw their apartment, they never tried to tidy up in his presence. _What’s gotten into them?_ Whatever. It didn’t matter. He pushed the thought from his mind.

“What are you doing back so soon?” Yeji repeated. “Weren’t you supposed to come home next month?”

Jinyoung nodded, lowering himself into a chair in the dining room. “The event in San Francisco was cancelled. So I’d thought I’d surprise you all.”

Yeji smiled warmly, also seating herself at the table. He noticed her fingers fiddling, a nervous habit both of them had. _Was something wrong? Did they not want to see me? Perhaps they had some project to finish and I’m interrupting?_

Hyunjin returned, sitting down beside his sister. There was an awkward silence lingering in the room. Jinyoung noticed the deep breaths the boy was taking to calm himself. More than anything, he recognized the expression on his face. He looked almost _guilty._

“Is something _wrong_?” Jinyoung asked, a breathy laugh escaping him. “Why do you two look like you murdered someone?”

Hyunjin seemed at a loss for words. Yeji to the rescue. “We’re just surprised. You just came out of nowhere. And you look….different.”

Jinyoung tilted his head. He didn’t expect that. Then again, he was running around different countries for the past four months. “Good different? or bad?”

“Good, good different,” she hastily replied. “You look travel-worn, but you have this…glow. You seem…uh, happier, I guess?”

He grinned in pleasure. “I am happy. I came home after being away for so long.”

Hyunjin, uncharacteristically quiet until now, gave him a thumbs-up and spoke. “That’s good. Welcome back, hyung.”

“Do you guys have some assignment to finish? Or an exam?” he pressed. “I feel like I’m intruding. I can go if—“

“No!” Yeji practically leapt up to prevent him from leaving. “No,” she repeated, “we don’t have any work. You should stay for dinner! You must be starving!”

Well, he couldn’t deny that. “I suppose so…” he trailed off, unnerved at the near manic expression on her face.

“Then you can eat dinner with us!” She stood, motioning for him to do the same. “You can use the bathroom, freshen up a little, you know! Take your time, don’t hurry back, we’ll get dinner ready by then, okay?” Her enthusiasm had him smiling despite his confusion.

“Alright then.” Jinyoung agreed, walking to their bathroom and locking himself in it. It might have been his imagination, but he could almost hear the sighs of relief that they let out.

What had gotten into them? Did someone knock some respect into their heads while he was gone? Jinyoung removed his glasses and set them by the sink. The cool water running through his fingers gave him some relief. They were acting odd. Cleaning up? Offering to make him dinner?

Splashing water on his face, he tried to calm down. They must have some sort of test coming up. He had only been this nervous in college for exams. If that was the case, then why not just say it? He would gladly take his leave. He wanted to see Jaebeom, anyway. He could go to his apartment for dinner just as easily as theirs. Even so, he felt like they were hiding something. Jinyoung shook his head. It was probably just stress.

When he got back to the dining room, the kitchen door was firmly shut. He wouldn’t have minded if it wasn’t for the snippet of conversation he caught from behind the door.

“ _—going to do_?” Hyunjin sounded less like his usual cheerful self and more like a typical depressed college student.

“ _I’ll deal with it_ ,” he heard Yeji snap back. “ _Just don’t talk, okay_?” She lowered her voice to a whisper and then he couldn’t hear anything else.

Jinyoung sighed, mind preoccupied with Yeji’s words as he spread the placemats around the table, for three. What was she going to deal with? Clearly, his arrival had disrupted some plan of theirs. It wasn’t his business. He had no intention of knowing whatever they were plotting. Let them be. If he was supposed to know, they would tell him.

Dinner was a rather solemn affair. Jinyoung was tired from the journey, jet-lagged, and the twins’ behaviour had ruined his mood for the evening. As he ate, Yeji tried her best to engage him in conversation, but he simply wasn’t feeling it much. Hyunjin, obedient to Yeji’s request, barely spoke throughout the meal, choosing to focus on his food. Jinyoung just wanted to see Jaebeom more than anything right now. He checked his watch. It was half past seven.

“Guys,” he said at last, unable to bear it any longer. “You’re clearly not very interested in keeping me here—“

“Of course we are!” Yeji exclaimed, fake shock on her face. This girl could make it as an actress if she tried hard enough. He just knew her well enough to see through this bullshit. “Where did you get that idea? We missed you a lot! After dinner, we’re gonna have a movie night! Celebrating your coming back home.”

Jinyoung was speechless. They clearly didn’t want him there, but apparently they didn’t want him anywhere else either. “I…I wanted to see Jaebeom before—“

“You said it yourself that Jaebeom oppa didn’t get enough sleep,” Yeji interrupted. “If you go there now, he’ll get distracted and won’t finish his work and he definitely won’t sleep, so maybe you should stay and visit him tomorr—“

“Okay, okay!” he relented, standing up to move to the sofa. “Pick out a movie. I’ll stay.”

The duo acted in fast forwarded motion, clearing the plates from the table and finding a romantic comedy to watch first. He settled down, feeling a little better, but well aware that he still needed to shower after the flight.

The twins were restless, however. His patience with them was wearing thin. As the opening credits rolled, Yeji grasped her brother’s wrist and pulled him to his feet.

“We’ll be right back, okay?”

Jinyoung watched as the two of them disappeared down the hall. It was confirmed. Something was up. The last straw. No longer invested in the film, he gazed down the hall for any sign of them, but ten minutes passed and they were nowhere to be seen.

He stood up, meaning full well to tell them that he was going back downstairs. Why should he waste his time here? This apartment had become hostile to him in four short months. He couldn’t understand.

Just as he raised his hand to knock on Yeji’s door, he heard Hyunjin’s frantic voice.

“ _What should we do, Jackson hyung_?”

Jinyoung paused, bewildered. They were calling Jackson? Why? 

A police officer and also his ex, Jackson and him shared a reluctant but reliable relationship after the break-up. He came in useful sometimes. Jackson’s badge got him into places he wouldn’t be able to normally. It also got him out of places he didn’t want to be in. He was also the twins’ wild card when it came to signing leave applications or if one of them got into trouble. Jackson and Jaebeom generally disliked each other, but tried to remain civil when in each other’s presence. He couldn’t imagine why they were calling him now.

“ _But hyung….we’ve stalled Jinyoung hyung here until tonight, but….he wants to see him….what should we do? We can’t stall forever!”_

So they _were_ keeping him here against their will. He needed to get to the bottom of this. Pushing his sliding glasses higher along the bridge of his nose, he grasped the doorknob and twisted it.

Yeji gasped when he entered the room. Hyunjin promptly hung up and hid the phone behind his back. Both looked very, very guilty, and very, _very_ , scared.

Jinyoung crossed his arms. “Something’s going on. And I want to know what.”

They looked at each other, the glances carrying the question of ‘what-do-we-say’ and ‘fuck-fuck-fuck’.

A loud explosive noise filled the room. Hyunjin’s phone was ringing. He glanced at swiftly, but he darted forward and wrestled it from him despite his attempts at keeping it out of his reach. It was Jackson, as expected. He slid the answer button to the side, setting the call on speaker.

“Jackson?” he asked.

“Jinyoung?” he seemed startled to hear his voice.

“What’s going on, Jackson?” he demanded. “These kids aren’t telling me anything. Why were they calling you?”

There was a long pause. “I’m on my way, Jinyoung. Please stay there.”

“Jackson, wha—“ A beep. He had hung up. Wordlessly, he handed the phone back to Hyunjin. He stared at the two of them, his heart rate picking up tempo. Something was wrong. What could be so terribly wrong that a police officer had to interfere in it? What were they not telling him? Jinyoung suddenly had an overwhelming urge to see Jaebeom. As if only his arms could make him feel better now.

Shaking his head in betrayal and disbelief, he took a step backward, towards the door. “I don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t care. I’m leaving.” He turned on his heel and stalked out, wanting nothing more than to leave this godforsaken apartment. He got as far as the front door when Hyunjin planted himself in front of him, locking the door and spreading his arms in front of it.

“Hyunjin, get out of the way,” he commanded sternly. The boy swallowed, like disobeying him was hurting him, but he shook his head, standing firm.

“You can’t leave,” he said quietly, not unable to maintain eye contact under his gaze.

“Are you _physically_ blocking me?” Jinyoung asked incredulously. What was going on? Why on earth was he behaving this way? Both of them!

“I have no choice.”

“What the hell is going on?!” he screeched, finally losing his temper. “Why are both of you hiding something? What is it? Why won’t you let me leave? I only want to see my own boyfriend! Is that a crime now?!”

“You can’t see him!” Yeji shouted, her voice booming in the small space.

Silence fell.

“What do you mean, _I can’t see him_?” he hissed, shooting daggers at them with his eyes. His brain began to construct the most bizarre, the most heartbreaking, the worst possible scenarios that might play out. Had he been in some accident? Was he in the hospital? When neither of them answered, he asked more forcefully, “Why can’t I see him?”

“Oppa,” Yeji choked out, her voice breaking. Hyunjin’s hand immediately went to hers. She had broken. After all this stalling and make believe, she had finally broken. “Jinyoung oppa…” She looked up at him, eyes teary. “You can’t see him because…” Deep breath. “He’s been missing since Tuesday.”

-

The tension that diffused into the room was palpable. None of them spoke. Jinyoung could only stand there, letting those words be absorbed.

_Jaebeom was…missing?_

“You two are fucking awful, you know that?” he said at last. “If this is some sort of joke, it’s not very funny. At all.”

“We’re not joking!” she burst out. “Look at us and say we’re lying! Can you?”

She was right. Their expressions were so forlorn, so sincere, so _frightened_ that his first instinct was to believe them. But how? That made no sense!

“For the first couple of days, we didn’t think too much of it,” Hyunjin said softly. “We thought he might have gone out of town or something. We thought he would be back. But then, three days passed, then four. And there was no sign of him.” His voice cracked. “We tried texting him, but the messages wouldn’t go through. We tried calling him, but the number was non-existent. His apartment is empty. He hasn’t been there in days, hyung.”

Jinyoung didn’t trust himself to speak. He knew that was absurd, Jaebeom couldn’t possibly be missing.

“We told Jackson oppa yesterday,” Yeji added. “He’s filed a man missing case. The police have put out a search for him. We—“ she looked over at her brother, “—we didn’t know where he worked, exactly, so we couldn’t ask at his workplace. And there was nothing in his apartment to tell us. No phone, no laptop, no documents.”

They both looked fearfully at him, waiting for his response to what they just said.

“That’s impossible,” he stated.

Yeji sighed. “Oppa, we’re not ly—“

“No,” he cut over her, raising his voice, “That’s impossible because I talked to Beom on the phone _yesterday_!”

A loud knock on the door spared them from reacting to his claim. Hyunjin opened the door and Jackson Wang strode inside, still in full uniform.

“Jinyoung.” He inclined his head. “You’re home.”

“What the fuck are they talking about, Jackson?” Jinyoung spat, not willing to hear his salutations. “What do you mean, Jaebeom is _missing_?”

His eyes darted to the twins, who winced apologetically at disclosing the matter before his arrival. His eyes softened. “Jinyoung, please calm down.”

“No, I will _not_ , Jackson!” His voice was growing steadily hysterical. “You can’t tell me Jaebeom has been missing since Tuesday when I talked to him on the phone barely _thirty-six_ hours ago!”

His eyes widened. “You _what_?” Jackson grabbed his shoulders and walked him backward until his calves hit the sofa and he sat down hard. “What number was it? Dial it right now.”

With a trembling hand, Jinyoung pulled out his phone and dialled the last number that had called him, pressing the speakerphone icon. A series of beeps sounded through the device, agonizingly slowly and regularly paced. Any moment it would begin to ring. Wouldn’t it?

Jinyoung was wrong. A flat female voice issued through the receiver. _The number you are trying to reach does not exist. Please dial again or cont—_

Jackson reached up and ended the call. Jinyoung could only stare at his phone in shock. But Jaebeom had called him from this number! Why wouldn’t it work now?

“We told you,” he heard Yeji say hesitantly. “The calls don’t go through.”

“Jinyoung,” Jackson brought his attention back to him. “Are you sure Jaebeom called you from this number? Are you sure he even called you at all?”

A boiling tear escaped his eye, full of rage, resentment and confusion. “What do you mean by that?”

When he spoke again, Jackson’s voice was far gentler. “You’re sure he called you?”

“Of course I’m sure!”

“What did he say?”

Jinyoung recalled the brief conversation. “He said work was killing him, that he missed me….about Felix’s dance performance on Friday….”

“Felix’s dance performance?” Three pairs of eyes turned to Hyunjin. He shook his head. “That was almost two weeks ago.”

Jinyoung’s mouth fell open. “What?”

He nodded. “I would know. I’m the one who hauled his adrenaline-pumped ass back home.”

Jackson clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Jinyoung, I hate to say this, but I don’t think you were talking to Jaebeom.”

He rounded on him, pushing at his chest, utterly furious. “What the hell do you think you’re saying? Do you not trust me to know my own boyfriend’s voice?”

“Look at this rationally, Jinyoung!” Jackson bellowed, seizing his hands and pinning them to his sides. “Are you able to reach him from that number?”

Jinyoung wanted to cry. He wanted to scream that he was wrong, that _Jaebeom was not missing, could not possibly be missing_. His body failed him. “No,” he croaked out.

The policeman spotted a newspaper lying on the coffee table and barked an order to Hyunjin to turn to the page where the report was. “Look at it, Jinyoung.” He peered at it, scared of what he would read. It was an article reporting that Jaebeom was missing and to alert authorities if anyone saw him. His chest ached at the photo attached with it. He had flown all the way here to see that face. How on earth did things end up like this?

“We’ve searched his apartment, Jinyoung.” Jackson loosened his grip on his wrists. “His clothes are still there. There’s no sign of any electronic devices or paperwork. No wallet, or keys or anything. Nothing else has been touched. No sign of a struggle. He’s gone. We’re going to find him, okay?” He sighed, tugging at his collar. “Until then, you have to be cooperative. Please. We’re trying to _help_ you.”

He didn’t know what to think.

_Jaebeom was missing. Jaebeom had packed his stuff and left._

_Jaebeom had lied to him over the phone._

Jinyoung wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Looking into Jackson’s earnest eyes, he knew he had no choice.

He nodded. “I understand.”

-

Jinyoung cried a lot that night.

He couldn’t will away the image of Jaebeom’s smiling face burning into his head whenever he closed his eyes. Wherever he looked in his apartment, he saw him. In the kitchen, washing dishes; on the sofa with his laptop; in his bed.

He figured the only reason he was so emotional was because of the hope.

 _Saying he was dead might have been easier_ , he mused darkly. The fact that he was just ‘missing’ seemed to make things a lot more difficult, because there remained a shred of possibility that he was alive somewhere. And that drove both rage and fear in him. Why had he left? Or had he? Had he been kidnapped? Jackson said there was no sign of a struggle. What did that mean? What would it mean for the two of them? He wasn’t sure how he would react if the police did manage to find Jaebeom. Would their relationship ever go back to the way it was?

_Maybe he shouldn’t be found._

-

The next morning, Jackson arrived at his apartment just as the twins were leaving for college. Through the door, Jinyoung could hear them talking in hushed tones and when he flung the door open, they rushed away, avoiding eye contact. It didn’t take a genius to understand their guilt at lying to him the previous night.

“They’re good kids,” Jackson told him, noticing his eyes had followed the twins downstairs. “They cried a lot when they told me Jaebeom was missing. In case you haven’t noticed, Jinyoung, Jaebeom meant— _means_ —a lot to them, too.”

He nodded absently, prying his gaze from the door.

“Jinyoung, I want to ask you where Jaebeom worked.” Jackson stared around his apartment as if he was seeing it for the first time. He took in his appearance. He was in plain clothes today. Jinyoung was suddenly aware that it was the first time the two of them were alone together since the breakup. He always kept other people in the room when he knew he was coming over, just to save himself from the anxiety. “The twins didn’t know.”

He considered the question. “Jaebeom…he worked at JYP.”

“JYP?” Jackson sounded impressed. “That’s such a…reputed corporation. You sure?”

Jinyoung pursed his lips, irritated. “I’m sure.”

He sensed his anger bubbling beneath the surface and swiftly moved on. “Would you want to accompany me to his office, or would you rather stay here?”

“I’ll come with you!” Jinyoung exclaimed. Of course he would. He didn’t trust himself to stay in his apartment by himself any longer.

He nodded. “Okay. Get ready.”

-

Despite the situation, Jinyoung was awed by the JYP compound. It was a sprawling property, greenery all around. Not what he expected from a multi-million-dollar organization. He gazed, open-mouthed at the palm trees and decorative shrubs that lined the road inside.

“Why are you acting like you’ve never seen it before?” Jackson asked him, a teasing lilt to his tone.

Well. “I…actually haven’t,” Jinyoung said slowly, realizing that himself. “I never had any reason to. Jaebeom said security was tight around here.”

As he spoke, Jackson pulled the car up to the security at the gate and merely brought out his badge to show him. He didn’t even need to. The police car said it all. The guard leapt up, punching in a code in a box and the gates rolled open. He glanced over at him, as if proving a point, and he thought it better not to speak.

-

The receptionist in the lobby was a tall, thin young man who greeted them both with a child-like smile. “Good morning, how may I help you?”

“We need information about one of your employees.” Jackson didn’t waste any time.

The receptionist’s smiled faded. “I’m sorry, sir, we cannot disclose any of our employees’ information to—“

“What’s your name?” Jackson snapped, slamming his badge down on the counter. Jinyoung couldn’t help but flinch slightly. His tiny spasm went unnoticed by them.

“Wha—Yugyeom, sir.” The young man’s demeanour instantly changed to a more respectful one when he realized who he was talking to.

“I’m heading an investigation for a missing man,” Jackson calmly explained, enjoying the cooperation he was getting now. “A man who was an employee here. So let me ask again, Yugyeom-ssi, can I get his information or not?”

“I—I’m not authorized to give you any information, sir,” Yugyeom tried again. “But—“ he added before Jackson could lose his temper, “—I can refer you to a senior. You can ask him.”

“Do that, then.” At Jackson’s sharp command, the receptionist jumped to dial a number. Jackson gestured for Jinyoung to sit on one of the sofas in the lobby while he made the call. He shook his head. He was far too restless.

“He’ll be with you shortly, sir.” Yugyeom informed them. He seemed very uncomfortable with the way things were going. Jinyoung tapped his fingers against the counter, impatient. The young man’s eyes ran over him, curious. Jinyoung pretended not to notice.

“Excuse me, sir?”

A voice nearby caused both of them to turn around. Another young man, seemingly not much older than them, clasped his hands together. The receptionist looked relieved to see him.

“Sir, if you could just follow me,” the newcomer suggested, bowing and gesturing before making his way down the hall. Jackson set off briskly after him and he rushed to keep up. “My name is Mark Tuan,” he said. “How may I be of service?”

Jackson made a noise in the back of his throat. “You look young. You are the…?”

The man let out a bitter sort of laugh. “I’m an HR here.”

“We need information on one of your employees.” When Jackson got down to business, he could be scary. Jinyoung just let him take over. “He’s been missing for a week.”

Mark narrowed his eyes, leading us to a room (his room, from the sign) and motioned for us to sit in the chairs in front of the desk. “That’s concerning. I don’t recall any such report being made…” He took his seat and turned his computer on. Sliding a pen and paper towards Jackson, he said smartly, “If you could write down the name, please.”

Jackson looked at him. Sighing, Jinyoung picked up the pen and with trembling fingers, wrote down _Im Jaebeom_ on the slip of paper.

Mark considered the name. “I feel like I’ve heard—I can’t place it.” He typed it into the computer. After a brief pause, he spoke, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I’m sorry, sir, we don’t have an employee by that name.”

A thought suddenly occurred to Jinyoung. Raising his voice, he interjected. “Could you search _Park Jaebeom_? He might have gone by that.”

Tapping at the keyboard again, Mark frowned. “I’m sorry. We have several surnames of Park, but I don’t suppose any of them is your person?” He turned the screen outward. True enough, many names were listed under Park, but neither of the photos alongside was Jaebeom. Jinyoung shook his head, devastated, more puzzled than ever.

Jackson grasped his wrist, trying to comfort him, but it was futile.

“I could look in the archives, if you want,” Mark offered.

His heart leapt at that. “Archives?”

He nodded. “Since we’ve been expanding more recently, we set up the system so that only the employees within the past year are immediately available. Any employee information before that is transferred to the archives.” He shrugged. “Less clutter.”

Jackson glanced at him. “It’s worth a shot, I suppose.”

Mark rummaged around in his desk and brought out a cord. Connecting it to a hard drive, he plugged the other end into the computer.

“Im Jaebeom,” he murmured, typing into the program again. “Park Jaebeom. Um. Do you want me to do a general search or…? If you have the department, the search might be faster.”

Jinyoung opened his mouth to offer the information, but Jackson cut him off. “Do a general search. We’ll wait.”

 _Why, Jackson_ , he thought. _Why prolong my pain?_ He twisted his ring, nervous. He couldn’t help but feel like Jackson was _enjoying_ this. Enjoying seeing Jaebeom being put down. Enjoying Jaebeom being exposed. He was being exposed, Jinyoung realized. But that didn’t change how he felt about it. Not yet.

The wait was agonizing. The silence was even worse.

“Mark-ssi,” Jackson said abruptly. “Would you mind if the two of us stepped outside for a moment?”

“Not at all. Feel free.”

“Jinyoung,” Jackson turned to him. “I’d like a word.”

-

“Are you sure? Are you _absolutely_ sure that Jaebeom worked here?” Jackson was in his good cop persona for the time being. Jinyoung didn’t want to know when the bad cop would make an appearance.

He was weary. “Yes, I’m sure. That’s what he told me.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m going to need you to be honest. Has Jaebeom, at any time, made you think he was lying?”

Jinyoung shook his head. “No.”

“Never felt suspicious of him?”

“Not really, no.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “You’re sure?”

“I am.”

Planting a hand on his hips, he stared off into the distance. Jinyoung wanted to ask what was on his mind, what he was thinking, what his next move was.

An interruption presented itself in the form of Mark. He poked his head out the door. “I think I found your guy.”

He dashed inside, his heart throbbing, Jackson close behind.

“He was an employee here almost four years ago,” Mark explained. “Finance. Fired soon after he joined for an error in calculation that his senior blamed on him, said that the irregularity was intentional.” He sat back in his chair as Jackson examined the page on the screen. “I’ve heard his name around here somewhere, that’s why I recognized it. During that senior’s resignation. I joined after Im Jaebeom left, so I’m not as familiar with the name as my seniors would be. But, that’s not the issue. Usually there’s general information about the employees, you know, like birth date, address, blood type.” Mark frowned. “He has nothing like that. Empty files.”

Jinyoung couldn’t tear his eyes away from the screen. Mark’s words washed over him.

It was him.

There was a lump in his throat on seeing his picture. Jaebeom looked so much younger in it. So much happier.

Four years ago. Long before Jinyoung met him.

He had been lying this entire time?

Jinyoung wasn’t sure what hurt more: the fact that the man he loved was missing, or that he had lied to him.

He was completely out of it as Mark, at Jackson’s request, printed out the information. He couldn’t grasp it yet. He couldn’t accept this!

The walk back outside was quite grave. He was lost in his own thoughts and Jackson was examining the details collected.

“I always knew Jaebeom was a fraud,” he muttered.

Jinyoung stopped in his tracks, shocked at the words coming out of Jackson’s mouth. Tears of outrage and frustration built up. He had never been so offended in his life, and yet, he didn’t know if it was because he insulted Jaebeom or because deep down, he knew he was right. Jackson was quick to correct himself.

“Jinyoung, I didn’t mean it that way,” he said hastily. “I would never say anything about his…love. For you. I just meant that—“ he broke off, groaning. “He _lied_ , Jinyoung. He lied to all of us. I just hope…I mean, if we find him— _when_ we find him, just know what you’re getting into.” He clenched his jaw, face set. “He must have lied for a reason and by god, I’m going to find out what.”

-

Jackson was watching him, he knew it. As they both climbed the steps to Jaebeom’s apartment, Jinyoung knew he was watching him, making sure he didn’t break down, concerned about his mental state in this place that he associated the most with Jaebeom.

But he had to know.

Jinyoung wanted answers.

The two policemen at the door saluted Jackson and stood aside for them to enter. The apartment was clearly a sort of crime scene now. A rush of emotions hit him when he stepped inside. The suffocation was back, stronger than ever. The familiar living space made his heart _ache_ with longing. He didn’t even want to question him. He just wanted to see him. He just wanted _Jaebeom._

Hyunjin was right. His apartment was empty. A thin layer of dust covered the surfaces. The place had been carefully upturned, probably as a result of the police search.

“I’ve wondered why you two didn’t just live together,” Jackson remarked, stepping carefully around a detective dusting for fingerprints.

He had an answer to that. “Jaebeom likes his privacy. And he’s shy,” his stomach clenched, “so he thought it would be better until after we were together longer.”

Jackson snorted under his breath.

He chose to ignore it.

Jaebeom’s bedroom always gave him such a sense of safety. Now it felt empty. There was a sudden unexpected, unexplained gap in his chest. And Jaebeom wasn’t there to fill it. Just a cold bedroom. Jinyoung felt his cheeks heating up. This was such a personal space for him. He hated this. He hated having to be here as part of an interrogation. He hated having to share this room with Jackson, of all people. He was selfish. He felt like Jackson and the other policemen were intruding.

“Is anything missing from his wardrobe?” He asked. “Might help if people know what he’s wearing.”

Reluctantly, Jinyoung pried open the doors. All the clothes were there. His eyes were searching, subconsciously for Jaebeom’s favourite thing to wear—his black hoodie. He carefully uncovered the layers of clothing at the bottom of the wardrobe, hoping to spot it.

It wasn’t there.

“His black hoodie is missing,” he gasped. His hands frantically fumbled around, as if his panic would make it magically appear. “It’s gone!”

Jackson gripped his shoulders quickly. “It’s okay, Jinyoung. He must have worn it. It’s okay.” He gestured to the rest of the clothes. “Do you think anything else has been taken?”

He wasn’t listening. He had found his favourite shirt of his. The thin material slipped through his fingers smoothly. His eyes traced the writing on it. _before he fell, Icarus flew,_ it read. Jinyoung loved it. He’d worn it whenever he could. Tears pricked at his eyes. Shaking, he lifted it, buried his face in it. The smell of his all too familiar cologne hit him.

He broke down.

In any other situation, he would have been ashamed that he cried in front of Jackson and the police, but this time? He didn’t give it a second thought. He was tired of this interrogation.

He was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. He was jet-lagged and his head throbbed. He had spent the last four months toiling away abroad, doing a staggering amount of work, homesick. He had come home at last, to distant friends and neighbours, to learn that his boyfriend had gone missing without any explanation, had lied to him and was not the man he thought he was.

Jinyoung sobbed pathetically, clutching his shirt to his chest, head bowed, too far _gone_ to care about anything else. He came home wanting more than anything to be in those arms that made him feel safe and warm, to kiss those lips that made him forget his troubles. He no longer cared about the lies. He just wanted him back.

Jackson seemed to freeze, not knowing what to do. He stood beside him uncertainly. Jinyoung didn’t care. He didn’t want his comfort. He couldn’t think for crying so hard. All he wanted was for him to find Jaebeom.

When he had calmed down a little, Jackson led him out of the bedroom. He still clung onto the shirt, refusing to let go of it.

In Jaebeom’s study, he noticed several things, through his watery eyes and smudged glasses. Like Jackson had mentioned, his laptop wasn’t there. The notebooks that usually cluttered up his desk were gone. The bookshelves were untouched. The backpack that was always on the floor beside his chair was gone, too. He weakly pointed it out to Jackson and he made a note of it.

He ran his fingertips over the books. Dust clung to his skin once he pulled away. It wasn’t like Jaebeom to let dust take over his books. They must have been right about Jaebeom not being here for a while. Some sort of odd feeling punched him in the gut when his fingers ran over the spine of _I will hold your heart_ , a book that they loved reading. Drawn to it as usual, he hooked his fingers around it and pulled it out.

A piece of paper fluttered out of it and he caught it before it fell. 

_I’m sorry, Jinyoung._

The book hit the floor. His knuckles tightened around the paper.

“Jinyoung?”

_I’ve done so much to hurt you. I’m such a bad person. I led you on. I lied to you. I loved you. And I hope your love for me will let me go._

_I was never the corporate employee you thought I was. I’m just a loser, hoping to make art with my music. I lied to you. I’m ashamed of it. I left in the morning, but it wasn’t the office I went to. I tried. I wanted to throw everything away and devote my time to music, but for how long? I had no idea of knowing whether I would make it big, whether I would be successful. How long would you stay with a loser who can’t afford to sustain himself? I didn’t want to lose you. So I lied. I’m sorry._

_I lied when I told you I was happy. You know only too well how easily depressed I get. I wanted to be happy, Jinyoung. I really did. But where did I fit in with all of this? I was living a lie. When you asked if I was happy, I told you I was. I told you that you make me happy. And that still stands true. But you’re not here. And I don’t know when you will be. And I’m suffocating. I lived my entire life asking myself if anything was worth it. I lived my life contemplating how I would die._

_But then you came along. A ray of sunshine. I don’t know why or how I got so attached to you. But once I did, I couldn’t let go. I admit I forgot what it was like to be depressed. I forgot it when I was with you._

_Why did you have to leave?  
No. This isn’t your fault, Jinyoung. Don’t blame yourself.  
I brought this on me. I’m the one at fault.  
I lied to you. This whole time, I lied to you. I know nothing I say can make you believe me, but I loved you. I really did. But now, your love will have to suffice for the both of us.  
I’m sorry, Jinyoung.  
I don’t know what to do.  
I don’t know how to dispel this darkness in any other way.  
If I didn’t do this, wouldn’t it just keep haunting me in my sleep? Wouldn’t it just keep coming back?  
I’ll wait for you. In a place we don’t have to worry.  
I’m sorry. One day, I hope you will be able to forgive me.  
I love you._

He found that his vision had blurred.

This was Jaebeom’s letter. Jaebeom’s handwriting. Jaebeom’s words.

The only explanation he had for not reacting was that he was numb. So much had happened in such a short time. He didn’t know how to cope with it all.

Jaebeom was missing, and he had hope.

Now he held the reason in his hands.

Jinyoung didn’t want it.

Jackson’s voice broke through the morbid thoughts building up in his head.

“What’s that?”

He only shook his head, not trusting himself to speak just yet. Jackson didn’t force him to. He gently approached him and took the letter from his quivering hands. He didn’t comment on it once he had read it through. He snapped a picture of it and returned it to him.

-

Jinyoung was quiet on the ride back. Jackson had, in hushed tones, informed the officers with him that he had found a letter. Words like ‘suicide note’ and ‘runaway’ reached his ears. He didn’t want to know what conclusion they had reached.

It couldn’t be much more different than his.

Jackson cleared his throat. Jinyoung forced his attention away from the piece of paper folded carefully in his wallet.

“Jinyoung, I really apologize for being so insensitive—"

“It’s fine, Jackson,” he said shortly, digging his fingers into Jaebeom’s shirt.

He teetered on the edge of speech for a moment before bursting out with, “Is there any place or person you associate with Jaebeom that might give us an idea of where he might be?”

“I have an idea of where he might be,” Jinyoung said dully. “And I think you do, too.”

Jackson pulled the car over to the curb, parking it, and then turned to him. “Jinyoung, please listen to me.” He was firm. “That letter is only one possibility. There’s still every chance that he’s…alive. We haven’t gotten any reports of…never mind. That’s just a speculation. My point is, he may still be alive and I need you, _please_ , to think of anyone who may know where he is. I know this is hurting you badly, but I can’t help but be stern with you. It’s my job. Did Jaebeom have any family?”

He shook his head, resenting Jackson so much for forcing answers out of him, resenting himself for being so affected. “Estranged.”

“Right. Did he have any friends, perhaps? Has he ever mentioned anyone?”

Jaebeom was mostly a loner. He kept to himself. He didn’t open up very well with new people, so most of his friends were also Jinyoung’s friends. And if Jaebeom lied to him, he most certainly lied to them as well. Even if he meant only good. But there was someone. Jaebeom mentioned his name in passing, but he had no further information about him.

“There was…a guy,” he said slowly. “Youngjae….Choi? Youngjae, I think.”

Jackson immediately radioed that detail to his colleagues at the station, asking them to find out who he was and to ask him to the station.

“Thank you, Jinyoung.” His voice was far gentler than the tone he used earlier today. “I know this is hard for you. And I promise, I _will_ find him.” _Dead or alive_ , he knew he wanted to add.

“I’m taking you back to your apartment now, okay?”

Jinyoung flinched, sitting upright. “No,” he protested. “I’m not going back there. Not now.” _I don’t trust myself to be alone right now. My thoughts are too frightening for me to do that_.

Jackson sighed. “Okay. I’ll take you to the station, then.”

-

“Do we have any leads on Youngjae?” Jackson’s booming voice brought the entire station to attention. Jinyoung shadowed him.

“He’s some sort of underground singer, sir, Ars,” one of the officers said. “Music producer.” Jinyoung’s ears perked up at that. _The guy made music? He must know Jaebeom, then. Maybe he knows where he is?_ He allowed his hopes to rise.

Jackson evidently had the same thought. “Ask him to report here.”

“Already done, sir. He should be here in ten minutes.”

He seated himself in one of the chairs in front of Jackson’s desk, head in his arms. He was tired, so tired. He just wanted to leave. He wanted to disappear. Just—there was such frustration in him. He didn’t know whether he wanted the truth or he wanted answers or just to see Jaebeom alive. _He can’t be dead! he thought desperately. He can’t! I forgive him for everything! Just please be alive, Jaebeom. For me._

Jackson set a sandwich in front of him. He hadn’t even realized the time. It was well past noon, but he wasn’t hungry. “Eat. It’s been a long day.”

He didn’t respond. He didn’t have much of an appetite. He simply couldn’t stop thinking about the letter and making himself even more upset. _What am I supposed to believe?_ Ultimately, it boiled down to one question. _Who do I trust? Jaebeom, or Jackson? Do I trust the letter, or do I trust a policeman’s instincts? I don’t know what to do!_

He didn’t know which was the better option. Was he to believe Jaebeom’s unhappiness and resign to his fate? Or does he back Jackson in his chase and, if successful, watch him drag Jaebeom before justice?

“Do you need a hug?” Jackson asked quietly.

 _Yes. I do need a hug. But not from you_. Jinyoung shook his head.

“Youngjae is here, sir.” The statement caused Jackson’s expression to sour. He was morphing into his no-nonsense bad cop alter ego. He made a motion towards the other officers, to let him in.

“Jackson-ah,” he whispered, catching his attention at his informality, “please don’t hurt him.”

He scoffed. “That’s a decision he’s going to make, not me.”

-

Youngjae was a young man, not much younger than Jackson, probably his own age. He had a surprisingly non-threatening appearance than one would expect, despite the several tattoos inked on his arms and earrings dangling from his lobes. 

He took the seat next to Jinyoung, eyes hovering over him curiously.

“Choi Youngjae, right?” Jackson asked him.

He nodded, uncertain as to why he had been called up. “Yes, sir.” His voice had a rich quality to it. Jinyoung thought he might have heard it before.

“We’ve called you here for a reason. Do you know an Im Jaebeom?”

He jolted in surprise. “Jaebeom hyung? Of course I know him.”

Jinyoung’s fingers fidgeted anxiously. _Would this man give me the answers?_

“How do you know him?”

Youngjae’s tongue darted out to lick his lips nervously. Perhaps he was beginning to think he shouldn’t have revealed that he knew Jaebeom. “Well, sir, I’m a music producer. I do some underground performances and after one show, he approached me saying he wanted to work with me some time.”

“And? You knew him well? How often does he meet you?”

“He was never a regular, sir,” the man explained. “He came and left when he felt like it. He never really talked much about his personal life. So I wouldn’t say I knew him well. But he made some amazing tracks. That’s the only reason I agreed to collab.”

Jackson turned to Jinyoung. “Did you know that Jaebeom made music?”

He nodded. “He said it’s what he wanted to do, but he was stuck in the…corporate world.”

“Funny, that’s almost exactly what he said to me, too,” Youngjae remarked. His eyes darted from Jackson to him, and then to the other police officers hanging onto every word that was being exchanged. He seemed to be gathering the situation. “What’s happened?”

“Youngjae-ssi,” Jackson spoke matter-of-factly. “Your friend has been missing for a week.” Jackson fished out the photo of Jaebeom’s letter and showed it to him. “And no one seems to know where he might be.”

Youngjae read through the letter. His jaw tightened. Looking over at Jinyoung, he asked, “Who are you to him?”

“His boyfriend.” The word felt meaningless now.

Youngjae opened his mouth as if to say something but closed it again. He bit his lip. Clearly something was on his mind. Jackson assumed as much.

“Youngjae-ssi, do you have something to say?”

He hesitated. “I’m not sure I should be saying it in front of his boyfriend.”

Jinyoung abruptly stood. “I’ll leave then.” He didn’t want to hear anything. Just let the investigation take its own course. He was stepping out of it.

Jackson promised him he would find Jaebeom. Dead or alive.

He made his decision.

_I trust Jackson._

-

Youngjae was released fifteen minutes after he had left the room. Jackson had asked the rest of his crew to leave as well, giving Youngjae a chance to say what he wanted solely to him. He was asked to be available whenever the station called him up.

Jinyoung watched the shorter man carefully as he trudged out of the room and into the courtyard. He looked upset. Guilty? He didn’t know; he couldn’t tell. Jackson would know.

“What did he say?” he demanded as soon as he re-entered the room. “Does he know where Jaebeom is?” The police officer looked broken down at last. Staring at his neat desk, lost in his thoughts. He was disturbed. He knew Jackson well enough to know that whatever Youngjae had said shook him to his core.

“Jackson,” he called, “what did he say?”

Jackson raised his eyes to him and he was startled to see that they were puffy. _Had he seriously been crying?_ He couldn’t imagine what Youngjae had said to make Jackson _cry_. Why would Jackson cry over anything related to Jaebeom? Actually, scratch that, why would he cry _in general?_

He couldn’t find the voice to ask again.

The phone rang. One of the other policemen rushed to answer it, so as not to break the thick tension in the room. The officers fell silent as they came back in. They all seemed just as shaken at the sight of Jackson—strong, stoic, no-mercy Jackson—breaking down just as much as he was.

“Um, sir?” the officer who had answered the phone asked hesitantly. “It’s from the Han River Water Authorities.” He held out the phone.

Jackson took it from him wordlessly and put it to his ear.

Jinyoung didn’t think it was possible for him to look sicker at heart.

He pressed his lips together and glanced at him, just briefly, but Jinyoung saw it. _It was about him? About Jaebeom?_

“I’m on my way.” He set the phone down and gripped the edges of his desk so hard his knuckles turned pale, apparently deciding what he should do. Suddenly, he slammed his palms on the wood surface. “Get up,” he snapped at two of his men, “we’re going to the River.” He grabbed his keys.

_Wait, is he going to just leave like that without telling me what it is?_

“Jackson, what happened? Why did the Water Authorities call?” The steadily increasing panic in his voice was evident. He chose to ignore his question. “Jackson!” He ran out the door behind him, grasping the back of his shirt and forcing him to stop.

He turned to him reluctantly.

“You’re going to tell me why they called,” Jinyoung threatened, lowering his voice, his tone serious. “Tell me if it’s about Jaebeom.” When he didn’t speak, he pressed further, voice cracking. “Jackson, you said I could trust you. You _promised_ me.”

That seemed to break his resolve. He sighed deeply. “It is.”

His breath hitched. “What is it? Tell me what it is, Jackson, don’t I deserve to know?”

Jackson stared at him for a moment, no expression on his face. Then warm fingers wrapped around his wrist. Jinyoung looked down in surprise.

“Come on then,” he told him, his voice soft but firm. “Get in the car.”

-

The building the Authorities was situated in was an old one. Jinyoung had heard that it was a restoration of a fisherman’s hut or something like that. It looked close to falling to pieces, but he knew it must be stronger past its appearance.

Jackson had put his mask back on for the ride to the River, emotionless again. The tension in the car was so thick that the even the two other officers accompanying them felt uncomfortable. No one spoke. Jinyoung had no clue why they called, but there was a growing fear in his mind. He crossed his fingers under his jacket, praying that it wouldn’t be what he was thinking of.

He followed the three policemen silently into the building. There seemed to be a sort of commotion.

A woman caught sight of Jackson and exclaimed, “Jackson-ssi, please come this way.”

She introduced herself and explained what happened. Jinyoung couldn’t hear properly for being far from them, but he caught the phrase ‘washed up’. His stomach clenched. She led them into a room. An empty room, nothing but a long plain table in the middle. And on the table—

His breath hitched.

It was a backpack. A black backpack. Soaked to its core.

As he approached it, the characters JB94 stitched into its front came into view.

_Jaebeom’s backpack._

“We haven’t touched it,” she clarified. “We didn’t want to examine it without supervision.”

Jackson inclined his head, appreciating that. “Very well.” He glanced at Jinyoung. “Do you want to stay here, or…?”

Shaking, he nodded. The woman looked at him, confused, only noticing just then that he was not a police officer. She shot a questioning glance at Jackson, who muttered, “Identification.”

He wanted to leave. Desperately. He would give anything to get away from here. How did policemen do it? How were they able to look over any type of feeling and persist with a case even though it must hurt them?

Jackson kept up a steady stream of questions as the woman put on gloves and proceeded to open up the backpack. He confirmed that the bag itself was Jaebeom’s.

The first thing she pulled out of it was a laptop. He couldn’t tell if it was his, but it hardly mattered anymore. It was obviously damaged beyond repair.

She held up a phone.

“Is that his?” Jackson asked him. He twitched his shoulders.

“It’s the same model.” _And it’s in his bag, why doubt if it’s his?_

She dug around in the space created by the removed laptop, and drew out a wad of wet paper, now a meaningless pulp. She set it aside and unzipped the next section, one that seemed bulkier than the other.

She pulled out the first thing her hands felt.

Jinyoung clapped his hands over his mouth.

_Jaebeom’s hoodie! His favourite black hoodie!_

The treasured fabric was thoroughly drenched in water, but it was still unmistakable.

Jackson didn’t need to ask if it was Jaebeom’s. “Is that all?” he questioned the woman.

She brought out another item.

A wallet.

Jinyoung’s hands balled into fists. He didn’t want to see it. He really didn’t. It would only confirm what he was thinking and he didn’t want that to happen.

The wallet was opened and a laminated card brought out.

Jackson inhaled sharply.

There was silence in the room as four of them stared at the card. The examiner set it down carefully on the table along with the other things.

A driving licence. _Jaebeom’s_ driving licence.

Jinyoung found that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the photo on it, or the letters that spelled out Im Jaebeom on it. He pursed his lips, trying not to cry.

After removing some wet bills, she put it down.

 _My photo_ , he thought suddenly. _He kept a photo of me in his wallet!_ Of course he had. How many times had he made fun of him for it? _But then, where is it now?_ There was only one conclusion he could think of. _He had it with him. When he…._

He felt himself tearing up all over again.

He knew what Jackson was thinking. He knew what all of them were thinking. He could feel the pity radiating from every point in the room. He was suffocating.

He pushed past the others and burst out through the door, gasping. Fresh cold air filled his lungs. He leaned against the wall, letting his head fall back.

_He’s dead._

_He’s gone._

He could hear him, in his quiet mumbles.

_I’m sorry. One day, I hope you will be able to forgive me._

_I don’t know how to dispel this darkness in any other way._

A tear escaped his eye. How did he have any left?

“Jinyoung.”

He shook his head. He didn’t want to hear anything from Jackson.

“I’m sorry.”

He remained silent.

“I know this is hard for you,” he continued, “but just give me a little more time, I can find—“

“No.”

He was surprised at the word that left his mouth. By the sound of it, Jackson was too.

“No?” he repeated. “What do you mean?”

He was tired; so tired. He didn’t want to do this anymore. He didn’t want to cooperate. “Drop the investigation.”

Jackson’s jaw went slack. “ _What_?”

“You heard me, Jackson,” he said more firmly, raising his voice. “Drop the investigation.”

“But…” He seemed at a loss for words. “Jinyoung, we’re close to finding him, this is still just a possibility—no one has found a body, we don’t know if he’s dead—“

“ _No, Jackson!_ ” he cried out, cutting him off. “Don’t you understand? I can’t do this anymore!” He lifted a shivering hand and let it fall over his heart. “Don’t use your brain, for once. Can’t you do that? Use your heart. He’s _dead_ , Jackson, can’t you feel it?” He couldn’t keep the plea out of his voice. Jackson kept his eyes trained on him, cold, unwavering. His next sentence came out almost a whimper. “Why do you want to punish me?”

He felt a hand cover his where it rested on his chest. His heartbeat. He could feel it now.

“I can’t do this anymore, Jackson,” he whispered. “It hurts.”

A hand on his shoulder. Then he was pulled to his chest, into his warmth, his arms wrapping around him; an apology, consolation, reassurance.

He could scarcely believe that he had arrived home only the night before.

For the second time that day, he broke down completely. This time as hope shattering.

Bullets would have been kinder.

-

_wherever you are, my love, don’t forget me  
I’ve memorized every inch of your body  
and I won’t let it go  
I loved you  
more than you know_

-

He rested his palms on the cool metal of the railing, gazing out at the water. The day was cloudy, the weather cold and windy. It was the sort of weather he would normally dislike, but today, he was at peace.

Speculations followed him everywhere.

They say this was where he jumped off.

He drew in a deep breath, letting the cool air fill him up. The wind was fierce, thrashing his hair around, but the river was calm, flowing smoothly along, as if it was apologizing to him for stealing the man he loved.

 _Take care of him for me_ , he told the water.

He felt a presence beside him.

“I thought I might find you here.”

He hummed, breaking his focus and turning to look at his companion. He offered him a small smile that he returned.

Silence fell. It seemed that both of you had things you wanted to say but had no courage.

“It wasn’t your fault, you know.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “I wish it was that simple.” His fingers tapped against the railing. “If only what you said came true.”

The events of the last few days was too much to comprehend. He had returned home, unsuspecting, and forced to play detective. It was almost like a game. But it wasn’t. This was real.

Both of them were hurting. For the same reason, and for different reasons.

After a moment’s pause, he asked, “Do you think you’ll ever tell me what Youngjae said to you?”

Jackson took his time answering. When he did, his voice was quiet, barely audible over the howling wind. “I think it would save you a lot of anguish if I take that to my grave.” Jinyoung felt his eyes on him. “Let that secret stay with me.”

He nodded calmly, pushing up his glasses.

The sun was going to set soon. The sky was already breaking into a myriad of colours, reds and oranges streaking across the fading blue and white.

“Thank you, Jackson.”

He was startled at his sudden comment. “What for?”

Jinyoung watched his fingers shift nervously on the railing. “No one can bring him back to me,” he said, reaching over to grasp his hand, “but in a way, you did. I understand him better now. I’m grateful to you for that.”

Jackson set his other hand on top of his. “I…I vowed to find him, but I brought news that was worse. I feel…guilty.” He struggled to get his words out.

“Is it worse? Do you think being loved by a man and setting him free to be happy is worse? Or is loving the empty shell of a man worse?”

Jackson had no answer.

The two of them stood there. Silent. Peaceful.

Jackson’s eyes were on the drifting water, still searching, still drowning in his thirst to know the truth that he couldn’t see.

Jinyoung’s eyes were on the changing sky, at ease, safe, knowing his eyes were on him, knowing the truth that he could always feel.

His files may have been empty.

But his heart never will be.

-

_there are things I cannot say  
sights you must not see  
so much that you don’t know  
those files must stay empty. _

-

Forty-seven kilometres north, upstream of the River, a lone figure walked out to the middle of the bridge spanning across the river’s width.

The night masked him well enough, clad in black, his hood and a mask hiding his pale face from prying eyes. He walked leisurely, gloved hands thrust into his pockets.

Staring out at the water, he let himself have a few moments to think; to contemplate; for closure.

The deal had gone well.

In exchange for six years’ worth of information, he had been paid generously and his request granted not to be sent south again. The only thing that had been worrying him was the investigation and the suspicions it might cause if pursued, but that was no longer an issue. His contacts stationed south had informed him that the case had been dropped.

He smirked, tugging his mask down, pulling out a cigarette and a lighter from his pocket and touching the end of the cigarette to the flame. Smoke curled upwards, dissolved by the night.

Holding it between his teeth, he drew out a photo from the inside of his jacket. A well-worn photo of a face he had grown accustomed to. A face that persisted, that brought unforeseen complications to his life. But no matter. It was over.

He clicked the lighter.

The corner of the glazed surface went up in flames, burning quickly. The charred remains of the photo clung to the rest of it until it finally broke off, falling into the water below. Just before the fire could reach his fingers, he dropped the shred of paper and watched the tiny point of light disappear before it met the raging water. In all his life, he had not seen the river peaceful. It was dark, restless and unforgiving. Black liquid hatred seizing its worth with a vengeance.

The cigarette dangling between his fingers now, he licked his dry cracked lips, aware that his voice was rough and unused. A hoarse whisper escaped him before he turned away at last.

“I’m sorry, Jinyoung.”

–

_fin._

**Author's Note:**

> so that's that  
> i'll update PYGO this weekend, practicals are kicking my ass  
> also guess what, a couple of my poems are getting published! wuhoo


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